Pulitzer's Daughter
by HHHOOHHH
Summary: She saw him, and she can't get enough. He is a drug, as cliché as that sounds. She barely knows him, but when she sees him she feels something indescribable. Pulitzer's daughter is a motivated young journalist who's about to become involved with the Manhattan Newsies. (I own nothing!)
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I'm very excited about this story. I have a goal, and a fresh plot (that I have thought through). It is a Jack/OC story. Like most of my stories have been and will be, the rating is subject to change. The following chapters will be longer! Please review honestly but kindly! Thanks so much.**

~Chapter One~

She saw him, and she can't get enough. He is a drug, as cliché as that sounds. She barely knows him, but when she sees him she feels something indescribable. She hates it; it makes her feel stupid, like he is controlling her somehow. And yet, she loves it, she love the little shiver she feel when he is anywhere near her. But she knows that he will never – can never – be hers.

She pulled her coat tighter around her shivering, petite body. The notebook in her hand was wet, and she tried to protect the pages from more damage. All around her, people were scurrying about, running from the pouring rain. The newsboys were standing in groups, looking sulky and cold, the weather spoiling their sales and soaking them through their thin clothes. Other street vendors seemed equally upset by the weather, but she didn't care.

The rain steadily fell, and she continued her walk. She looked to her left, and struggled to ignore the poor family huddled against the side of a tavern, crowded under one tattered blanket. The poor people pulled at her heart, as she always was a compassionate person. Passing them as quickly as possible, she looked ahead and swallowed her pity.

Finally, the huge brick World News Company was before her, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Downtown Manhattan always left a weight in her mind, especially on rainy, cold winter days. As soon as she walked through the huge glass doors she was greeted by employees and business men.

"Hello, Miss Pulitzer," Alfred greeted. "Your father asked me to send you straight to his office upon your return, and I would suggest that you hurry." She nodded, wondering what her father wanted now. "He is in an extremely foul mood, Miss."

She sighed and trudged up the endless flights of stairs to the top floor where Joseph Pulitzer's office was located. In a few minutes she pushed his door open, and saw her father sitting lazily in an armchair. He inhaled a long breath through his pipe before acknowledging her presence.

"Zoe," he greeted, "Where have you been?" She shrugged, and traced her finger over a chair before seating herself in it.

"Out," she replied vaguely, "Walking. And looking for something newsworthy, I suppose."

"And what did you find?"

"Well, the trolley strike is still raging on," she said disinterestedly. She received a grunt of annoyance from her father, and sighed. "You know, it isn't as though I'm just going to walk in on a murder or something! It's hard to find something inspiring to write about."

"Well, I'd suggest you keep looking," he growled, "If you want to remain under my roof, you are going to get some work done. Find something worth reading, and write a sample article. I want one by next week!"

"Well, I would love a suggestion," Zoe replied. "Somewhere to start would be fantastic." Pulitzer rubbed his chin thoughtfully, reading over the newspaper in his hand.

"Now that the strike is over," he muttered, "People are growing interested in the newsies. Oh, and the Refuge is a topic yet to be covered. Ever since Snyder was removed, people have been asking questions. Just think of the papers we'll sell."

Zoe frowned, eyeing her father critically. "How am I supposed to get information on how Snyder ran the Refuge?"

"Some of my newsies did time in the Refuge," Pulitzer said, "Interview them. Do an article on the life of a newsboy, and then add lots of meat about the Refuge, I don't care, just do it!"

"Fine," she muttered, "I won't be home for dinner."


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: First of all, a HUGE thank you to **_**biankies **_**for following and reviewing. You have really helped! **

**And I believe it bears mentioning that this story was inspired by the song **_**Uptown Girl **_**by Billy Joel. I suggest listening to it! (I just recently became a Billy Joel fan.)**

~Chapter Two~

It was uncommon for a female to make an appearance at the World Distribution Center, and the newsboys were being eaten alive by curiosity. Standing a few feet from the gate was a young lady, dressed expensively and everything about her perfectly manicured. She was watching the newsies skeptically, as if searching for something and not finding it.

They continued to stare, whispering amongst themselves. They seemed almost afraid to approach the area where she stood, until Mush suggested talking to her. Soon afterwards he wandered over to her to do so, after gathering up his courage.

"Can I help ya' miss?" he asked brightly, even taking off his hat in a gesture he assumed to be polite. She studied him for a second before responding.

"Perhaps," she said, her voice a bit deeper than he expected, "I am supposed to write an article on the newsies, but I am trying to find something _worth_ writing and reading about." Mush grinned at her haughtiness, her entire air amusing him greatly. "Good day to you, sir."

She stepped to the side, her way of ending the conversation. Rejoining his friends, Mush shook his head. "She's a high class one alright." The boys laughed and shrugged it off for the moment, finally going to purchase their papers. Their gazes strayed to the lady often as they settled in their usual spots to read the paper.

"Where's Jack been all morning? I ain't seen him since I left the lodging house," Race asked, and he received a chorus of 'I don't knows' from his companions. The older newsie had taken to his own schedule after the strike, no longer remaining with everyone else all the time.

The boys didn't have to wait long. In a few minutes, Jack's familiar tall, broad figure rounded the corner. Half the boys jumped up and hollered a greeting, and Jack's trademark smirk appeared.

"Heya, Cowboy," Race muttered quietly, "Ya see that lady standin' there? She's been here all mornin'. We was getting' a bit concerned." Jack looked over, and gave a disinterested grunt.

"So what? She got every right ta' stand there." Jack turned away, headed for the window to buy his daily round of newspapers. Mush came over, pushing Jack's shoulder lightly in greeting.

"Don' look now, but the lady has been watchin' ya since ya showed up," the muscular boy whispered, acting as though a few minutes was long enough to make a commentary on, "Ya got her feminine attentions." Race chuckled, but Jack didn't look in her direction.

"Yeah, well stop lookin' at her. It's rude ta' stare," Jack said, his voice low as well. Mush and Race looked at each other and grinned, throwing glances at the girl, trying to make them casual.

"I guess she don' know that!" Mush nearly yelled, earning a hard glare from the other two boys. "Sorry. Well, Jack, this all brings me to my next question." Jack nodded, and Mush continued. "Ya never show up on time for things. Ya never do anything wit' us anymore, except sell the papes. What's goin' on?"

"Nothin's goin' on," Jack replied lightly, "I just got stuff ta' do besides playin' poker and breakin' into candy shops now." Mush grumbled, but pulled Race with him to go begin selling.

"Oh, I guess I'm your partna' today, yeah?" Race said sarcastically. "Ya know Jack ain't quite our age. He's what, eighteen? I mean, he can't still be a newsie at forty."

"Well he's a long way from forty," Mush argued, and Race shrugged. "And he ain't quite _your _age. I am seventeen in two weeks. But why talk about this? Nothin's definitely gonna change, he's just busy."

"Exactly. Now could we please go sell somethin'? I wanna eat dinna' tonight, personally."

Zoe's morning could be classified as many things. Boring, unproductive, uncomfortable. Her observations on the newsies were nothing to read about. They all walked to the Distribution Center every morning, and sold papers all day, and then went back to their homes or the lodging house. She figured that instead of writing an article on the newsies as a whole, she would pick one and do an article on that person specifically. At least that way she could delve into someone's life beyond their uninteresting career. So now she was searching for a person.

She had one in mind. Ever since the newsie everyone called 'Cowboy' showed up, things had been interesting. The boys obviously admired him. Also, he looked vaguely familiar. Like she'd seen him in a picture. He had a handsome face, sharp and mature. But she felt like she had seen that face before, and not just in passing on the street or something.

A young newsie walked by, and Zoe took the opportunity to get information. "Hello, could I ask you a question?" She tried to keep her voice friendly and sweet, as the boy looked no more than eight years old. The boy nodded, eyes wide. "Who was that boy who was just here? He was tall, and I believe they called him Cowboy."

"Oh yeah, that was Jack," he replied, "Jack Kelly. He's sorta the unofficial newsie leader here in Manhattan." That was why he was familiar. She had seen him twice. She had seen him once in the paper, and once very briefly in her father's study late one night. He was the strike leader. She remembered her father's angry rants during dinner, and Jack Kelly's name came up frequently at those times. He would make a very intriguing article.

As much as she hated this demanded project, she was pleased to at least have an excuse to interview the handsome, mysterious Jack Kelly.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: so I'm new to this website. I would love to answer the questions people are asking through a PM, but I honestly have no idea how. So if anyone would be kind enough to PM **_**me, **_**or post a review instructing me on how, I would REALLY appreciate it. To **_**WapomeoHuntress,**_** I tried to figure out how to PM you knowing only your user name… I couldn't figure it out. SO SORRY. I would love some help.**

**I am not supposed to post a solo AN as a chapter. So here is a mini chapter to make this legitimate. Haha, two in one day. That's a record.**

~Chapter Three~

Joseph Pulitzer stared up at his daughter, raising his eyebrow at her winded appearance. She took a long minute to catch her breath, most likely having run the entire flight of stairs to his office.

"Father," she spoke finally, "I have good news and bad news." He looked at her expectantly, urging her to continue. "I know what I'm going to do for the article."

"And the bad news?" he questioned, lazily reclining farther into his armchair.

"Well, it's sort of bad news," Zoe corrected herself, "It's basically just news. It's not good or bad." Seeing her father's look of impatience, she closed her mouth for a moment to collect her thoughts. "It will take longer than you gave me. Next week is technically tomorrow."

"As long as you have an article, and a plan, I don't care," he muttered, "Just get to it. I'm busy here, as you can see." He motioned to his business partner, who was occupying himself at the miniature bar in the corner while his partner dealt with his daughter. Zoe sighed, but the man ignored it and waved her out of the room. "Now, Mr. Harrison, where were we?"


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: So, thanks to everyone who helped me figure out the website. (I'm trying to type while eating a popsicle. It is really hard.) (I have also noticed that I am obsessed with parenthesis.) Enjoy the chapter! Also, I noticed that when I checked the chapters of my story, the dividers I put to separate scenes in my story weren't there. So my scene changes look abrupt and unintroduced. I am sorry for that, and I will try to fix it ASAP. **

**Also, I love the relationship between Jack and Medda, and although the movie only briefly touches on it, I like to expand it. I see her almost as the mother Jack never really had, but still a great friend.**

~Chapter Four~

Zoe trudged away from her father's office, too focused on her task to be upset with her father's behavior. She wanted to talk to Jack Kelly, but for some reason she was more nervous than she felt was normal. Blaming her edginess on her hormonal attraction to Jack, she disregarded the feeling that she was nervous because he intimidated her. Zoe could not stand feeling intimidated.

It was two days later, Monday, that Zoe decided to get her interview. Swallowing any hesitancy, she reminded herself that she was one of the most influential young ladies in New York City. She was feeling concerned, whether it be over possible refusal from Jack, or simply him not liking her. It annoyed her, but she absolutely hated the thought of either.

She stood before the mirror in her bedroom, studying herself. Long copper hair hung in loose curls, cascading over her shoulders and halfway down her back. Her eyes were dark green, an uncommonly beautiful emerald shade. Her nose was dainty, and her lips were full and naturally pink. There was no denying that she was a beauty, and she felt a bit of pride swelling up and pushing the hesitancy away.

Now feeling confident, and slightly vain, Zoe walked briskly out of the house and towards the Distribution Center. She was greeted with even more stares than before, her second appearance obviously earning the newsboys' curiosity. Unlike the last time, Jack arrived with his friends, standing with them and looking much more pleasant and jovial. Zoe had picked a good day to come.

She walked directly up to him, cutting in front of his short companion and looking up at him. He was probably a good six inches taller. He looked down at her, his expression confused more than anything else. But, she did detect a hint of recognition.

"Mr. Kelly?" She asked, fully aware that he was Jack Kelly, but not wishing to sound too informed. She didn't want him to get suspicious of her knowledge of him.

"Yeah, that's me," he said, his voice thickly accented and a bit sarcastic. Zoe liked the sound.

"I am Zoe Pulitzer, and I work with the World," she informed him, "I am trying to write an article on one of the newsies, and you are very ideal." His not-so-friendly expression became even less friendly when she mentioned the World. Zoe assumed that the company hadn't quite regained the favor of the newsies since the strike. He didn't respond, so she continued, "We are very interested in your thoughts on the recent strike."

"I thought we made our thoughts pretty clear already," Jack replied, and Zoe bit her lip to avoid snapping at him.

"I mean from a personal platform," she corrected herself, "But we also wanted some inside information on Snyder's Refuge." Jack's face grew even stonier.

"Yeah, well, I'm not interested," Jack muttered, turning away. Zoe followed. She couldn't accept no for an answer. It simply wasn't in her nature.

"Do you realize what you're saying?" Zoe asked incredulously, jogging to keep up with Jack's quick strides. He turned to face her again.

"Yeah, I'm sayin' no." He continued to lengthen his steps, walking away before she could say anything more. Zoe stared after him, watching him buy his papers and head out with his friends. Things were definitely not going as planned.

Jack spent the majority of the day selling, but close to sunset he took his few remaining papers over to Irving Hall. He had made a habit of bringing Medda a paper several days a week, enjoying the excuse for a visit.

He walked through the side entrance, greeting the familiar faces and making his way into Medda's personal chambers. He could hear her humming from down the hall, and he smiled to himself.

"Oh Medda," he sang jokingly, "Guess who's here ta' see ya?" He could hear her airy and angelic laugh as she entered the sitting room of her living area.

"Hey Kelly," she greeted, smiling widely. She loved him to no end, although Jack never understood why. "How's the headline?"

"Da' usual shit," he replied, and Medda shot him a look.

"Have I not gotten through to you yet? Never use foul language in the presence of a lady," the redhead gently reminded him, and Jack shrugged.

"I came awful close earlier this mornin'," Jack grumbled, "Some girl showed up at the Distribution Center, and said she was Zoe Pulitzer. Then she pestered me 'bout some article, and wanted me ta' give her an interview. She wanted me ta' talk about the Refuge."

Medda gave him a soft shove, ruffling his hair affectionately. "C'mon, Cowboy, don't tell me that you were rude to Joseph Pulitzer's daughter."

"Not rude, I was just not puttin' up wit' nosy reporters," Jack defended himself, "And she's his daughter? How do ya know?"

"She was in the newspapers a few times, and she writes a good deal of the articles for the World. Have you ever read the economics column?" Jack laughed aloud.

"She writes the economics column? No wonder I neva' heard of her," he grinned. Medda tried to look reproachful, as she'd taken it upon herself to impart an education in manners to Jack, but she couldn't repress the laughter.

"She writes that among other things," she continued, "Like the columns on charity events and political rallies, but usually the men cover basic politics or everyday news." Jack snorted, still unimpressed with the girl he'd met that morning. Medda sensed this, and kept talking. "She is very compassionate. I read an article she wrote about New York City's homeless. It pulled my heartstrings."

"Why are ya talkin' so good 'bout her, eh?" Medda shrugged, walking gracefully around the room, and picking up the newspaper Jack had brought her.

"I hate to see you judging people," she said, and Jack rolled his eyes. "But no matter. It was good seeing you, Kelly."

"Is that your way of kickin' me out?" Medda pulled him in for a hug before replying.

"Well, I have a show in five minutes, and I doubt that you want to stay." Jack nodded in agreement, never one for the theater. "See you around, Jack. Oh, and take a bath, will you?"

He left quickly after, heading to the lodging house. When he arrived, he was instantly greeted by Race with a friendly punch to the arm.

"Heya, Jack, wanna play some poker? I'm sure ya'd like a shot at my latest winnings," the younger boy offered, but Jack declined.

"Nah, I gotta take a bath."


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: So thanks again to everyone who has reviewed, followed, or favorite-ed this story! Also, to the guest who said something about JackxKatherine stories, and there not being enough of them, I have not seen the Broadway production. I am not sure if you already have, but try the Plays/Musicals section of the site. The Newsies movie section is mainly JackxSarah or JackxOC, or slash. **

**So sorry about the awkward dividers… I tried double spacing, making dividers out of random symbols, using actual dividers, and nothing would show up once I posted the chapter. I'm not even sure if these are working! I have to post before I can check it. :(**

~Chapter Five~

After the brief ordeal with Jack, Zoe felt sort of lost. The article seemed hopeless without a specific person to focus on, and no one else seemed suitable. No one else was interesting. Or at least, no one else interested Zoe.

She really didn't know a thing about this person, besides his name and some minor details, but she couldn't stop thinking about him. He had her intrigued.

Aside from her almost random attraction to the poor newsie, Zoe was infuriated. He had no reason to refuse the interview, and his whole attitude towards her was so cold it was uncivil. She spent a good deal of time brooding, nursing her slightly wounded pride.

The very next day, she set out to get what she wanted. As the daughter of _Joseph Pulitzer_, Zoe was used to getting her way. And she was determined to do so. Deciding that she needed to approach Jack much differently, the young reporter contemplated ways to manipulate the stubborn mule of a human being. Although her meeting with him had been short, she could tell he had an obstinacy and independence about him that was impossible to get through. She would figure it out eventually.

Zoe concluded that her usually morning activity of walking the streets would help her think. She preferred to spend her daytimes out of the house and either in the streets or at her father's company building. She tended to opt for walking through the hectic streets, never minding the chaos. It was a habit of hers to spend large amounts of time wandering uptown Manhattan.

It surprised her to see a certain face among the crowd. Jack Kelly was the same as any other newsie on one area – habit. So to see a veteran newsie selling in a place you've never seen him before is unexpected, to say the least. It sparked her curiosity even more, and she couldn't resist the urge to bump into Jack.

Zoe weaved her way towards him, avoiding being seen. Finally, she was right beside him, and "accidentally" tripped on her skirts. She fell straight into her target.

"What a pleasure, Mr. Kelly," she greeted, and Jack's face didn't assume hostility like she expected. "My apologies, but hoops are rather difficult to maneuver."

"I'm sure they are, Miss Pulitzer," he said, saying her name rather pointedly. Zoe smiled, bright and fake, and repositioned herself so that she was waking alongside Jack. She sort of missed lying against him though…

"What brings you to this part of the city? I noticed in my brief study of the newsies that a selling spot is as permanent as they come," she commented, eyeing him in a way that almost dared him to answer her. He only shrugged. She was about to sigh in annoyance, when his lips parted to speak.

"There're too many newsies in 'Hattan," he explained, "My territory has been overrun." Zoe resisted the uncharacteristic urge to giggle at his accent. This was so unprofessional that Zoe wanted to hit herself. Instead, she nodded sophisticatedly, trying to appear fully composed and prepared.

"Well, I wish you the best of luck. Uptown New York City is much less difficult to sell in, you know. The population is less poor, and it's easy for us to let go of a penny." Zoe winced at the way that sounded. Had she just back-handedly insulted Jack's home? She glanced over at his expression cautiously, but he didn't look offended.

"Well, thanks, but I'd best be going," Jack said, his voice full of concentration.

"Wait- I was wondering if you might reconsider the-" Jack started to walk away, and Zoe wanted to scream at him. "The article!"

He didn't turn around, and Zoe followed after him.

"Mr. Kelly! I am growing extremely tired of your lack of appropriate mannerisms," she called, finally catching up to him. Her voice was choppy and broken apart due to the swift pace Jack was forcing her to keep. "Even if you are not interested, you are still speaking to a lady!"

"I ain't the one talkin'," Jack snapped back, quickening his strides to the point that she would have to run to keep up with him. Zoe huffed, resisting the urge to stomp her foot like an angry child.

Should she keep trying, or just move onto something with a purpose? Letting out an unladylike growl of frustration, Zoe stomped off towards her father's company building.

Her father didn't exactly appreciate it when she stormed into his office, ignoring his business associates and launching into a long, detailed rant about the lowlife of New York.

"Father, this boy is a big-headed jackass!" she exclaimed, and her father only rolled his eyes at her choice of language, "He is such an impudent, uncivil, haughty, unlearned piece of poor garbage! I have approached him twice, each time with manners and professionalism, and what does he do? He walks away. He walks away while I am talking to him!"

The men in the room slowly backed away, and Joseph waved them away. "We shall continue this discussion tomorrow, gentlemen." His partners nodded briskly and filed out of the room. "Now Zoe, please continue your… tantrum?" Shooting her unsympathetic father a meaningful glare, Zoe spoke again.

"Well, he is that rebel rouser who first initiated the strike. Turns out that he is the most rude, unkind person I've ever met. I asked him politely to allow me to interview him, and he didn't even say "no, thank you", he walked away! He just went stone cold." Pulitzer's eyes betrayed an irritating indifference to his daughter's complaints.

"Jack Kelly?" Zoe nodded, and Pulitzer chuckled. "I could have told you he'd say no."

"Well I refuse to accept no for an answer! He will cave, I swear to God, he will not win this," Zoe snarled, waving her arms to accompany the vehemence of her words.

"Mhmm," he hummed, "Sounds like he has you riled, Zoe. Don't let him get to you. It's bad for your image. You can't let him keep hurting your pride, or he still wins." The girl crossed her arms, and huffed, hating the truth in her father's words. "And I never want another one of those ugly tantrums to surface in the presence of my colleagues ever again."

"Yes, sir," she sighed, turning on her heel and leaving to go formulate some sort of plan. Other than continuing to ask for an interview, nothing really seemed effective. The street rat wasn't supposed to win against the refined, established lady.

Jack Kelly was becoming a hated force of stubborn animosity. Zoe's initial attraction to Jack, though still present, was only a small fraction of how she felt about the newsie. The star-struck phase of her crush on him had been extremely brief, his personality defects outweighing his good looks. Mostly, she couldn't stand him. Some people are just better from a distance, she reasoned.

_-Scene change-_

"This girl is such a pain in my ass, and I've known her for less than a week," Jack muttered to Race, leaning against his bed in exhaustion. "I find a new selling spot, and guess who happens to live right there?"

"S'what happens when you relocate to the uptown areas," Race chided, "Ya need to stick to your own territory, or you'll end up selling wit' the uptown folks." Jack snorted at how Racetrack practically choked out the words "uptown folks".

"Eh, someone sounds scared of the higher class," he taunted lightly, not meaning his words but knowing that Race would defend himself hotly at the suggestion.

"No! They just makes me a little antsy," Race argued, throwing a blanket at Jack with a frown. "And the way ya keep avoiding that girl, I think ya may be scared of _her_."

"I sure haven't been avoidin' her very successfully," Jack stated glumly, "She's everywhere. Like a rash or somethin'."

"She got unda' your skin pretty quick," Race mused, "And by everywhere do ya mean that she was in the same place as you two or three times?" Jack scrunched up his face rather adorably, thinking. Had Racetrack been a girl, he probably would have fought the urge to "aw".

"Huh," he said, "I guess it just feels like it's been going on much longa'."

"Well, I have a suspicion that it still ain't over," Race grinned, "Not for a while." Jack groaned playfully, in a surprisingly good mood as of late. "I don't know what's wrong with ya. I personally wouldn't have a problem with a pretty little uptown filly taking a liking to me."

"She hasn't taken a likin' to me, Race, she wants ta' write an article, so she's harassin' me."

"Same thing."

"No, Race, not the same thing," Jack shot back, flopping fully onto his bed. "Now shut up and lemme sleep." Race laughed, setting to getting himself ready for bed also.

"Do ya always run away from arguments you are losing?"

"Does it look like I'm runnin'?" Jack spoke tiredly, his need for rest evident in his voice.

"Well, it depends; it's sorta a figurative-"

"Shut up Race."

"You asked, Jack, I was just-"

"Good night, Race."

"Suit yourself, Cowboy."

Soon after, nothing could be heard from the Lodging House, except for Mush's obnoxious snores and Jack's restless tossing.


	6. Chapter 6

~Chapter Six~

Race and Mush chuckled nervously, fingers nervous and eyes dancing. They waited outside the Distribution Center, searching for their leader. He would be along eventually.

"Ya know, I can't help feelin' a bit traitorous, ya know?" Race mumbled to his companion, the other boy only nodding.

"He'll know that we're up to somethin'. He is too observant, always watchin' people in case they screw up." The two continued to wait, their choppy banter unusual.

Jack appeared in an instant, right behind them. The two boys jumped, bumping into each other and struggling to regain a sense of normality. They were definitely not used to the secrets business.

"Uh, Jack, we was wonderin' if ya had any plans today," Race started, "Ya know, like a plan for your schedule."

"Well, I was gonna sell some papes, like normal," Jack answered, raising his eyebrow. "Why?"

"Ya don't need to sell on a Saturday, there ain't any buyers. Um, Medda gave us some tickets to a lunch show at the theater, and we was wonderin' if ya would come along. Oh, and it ain't at Irving Hall, it's a different one uptown."

If Jack was suspicious (which he probably was), it didn't show. He was too distracted to care, really. Whatever his friends were up to couldn't be all that horrible.

"So what's with Medda givin' us tickets to go uptown?" Mush and Race shrugged, and Jack eyed them. "Okay since ya bums obviously got some weird plan going through your heads, go on and spit it out." The two boys shook their heads quickly.

"No, Jack, we ain't up to nothin' I swear," Mush said all too quickly. Race nudged him, silencing him.

"What he means is, we ain't got somethin' up our sleeves, we're just a little nervous goin' uptown. We street rats ain't used to the finery of the… atmosphere. It's out of our league, and it makes us uncomfortable. Y'know what I'm sayin'?"

"Yeah, Race, I know what you're sayin'," Jack chuckled, knowing there was something besides the show in their minds. Probably a pretty girl that they wanted to bet Jack would have a fling with. Setting Jack up with ladies and betting on how long it would last was a form of entertainment for the boys once Jack turned fifteen. They'd set him up with six girls so far, half of them middle class girls who just needed a first date. Others were serious, girls who Jack believed he could have even loved. He shook his head, trying to shake away the thoughts of failed past relationships. "Any girls waiting around for me in back rooms?"

The nervous laughter had Jack convinced that it was indeed a new girl to make bets on for a couple months. He wasn't sure if he was in the mood to play along with their game today.

The trio arrived at the theater at noon exactly, and they showed their tickets to a skeptical doorman. Obviously their clothing didn't match the common protocol.

Once inside, Jack observed his surroundings. Out of habit, he mentally marked all of the exits, and searched the crowd for any unfriendly faces. The room was set up with round tables all around, dinner courses laid out on each one. At the front of the room was a high stage, with heavy velvet curtains. Above the tables and lining the walls were balconies with fancier furniture. It was obviously reserved for society's elite.

Which was why Jack was confused when Race and Mush led him to a door that led to the staircase up to the balcony seats.

"Uh, where are we goin'?" Jack said loudly, trying to be heard above the very loud orchestra that was playing a call to all theater guests not already in their seats.

"To our seats. Medda really outdid herself," Mush said, and Jack frowned.

"Well while she was at it, she should've bought me a suit to go along with the seat," Jack observed, fully aware that his attire was one of the three rattiest outfits within three miles each direction.

"Here we are," Race said suddenly, motioning to a table with a single occupant. The lady had long copper curls and piercing eyes, with thick and long lashes shadowing them. The face was beautiful, no doubt, but the last one Jack wanted to see.

He turned to Race angrily. "What the hell is goin' on here?" The boy only shrugged apologetically.

"She gave us fifteen bucks each, Jack," Mush explained, pushing him towards the open seat.

"So ya bastards sell me out for fifteen bucks?" He was incredulous.

"Well, how much money is in that pocket of yours, Jack? Just talk to the lady, she don't wanna hurt ya." With one final glare, Jack surrendered himself to the seat and watched the traitors as they slipped away as fast as they could. Then, the opera began. Jack suddenly remembered how much he hated the opera. He couldn't stand the shrill screeching they called music.

-xxxxx-

Zoe's eyes swept over Jack's face, and he stared right into her eyes when she finished her once-over. She bit her lip, seeing the annoyance all over Jack's features.

"Well," Jack said finally, surprising Zoe. She didn't expect him to initiate a conversation. "Ya got me. In only a few days of knowin' each other, you've gotten under my skin more than anybody else ever has. Ya even got me into an opera, and I hate the damn things. What are ya getting' at?"

She paused, gauging his expression. She had decided that it was time to be a little more careful. "I do believe that I have already told you exactly what I'm getting at. I want to publish an article about you."

"Okay," he said, and Zoe felt hope surging through her. This was going well. "Why the hell do ya wanna do an article on me? I wanna know why I'm the person you're targeting."

"Well," she said thoughtfully, "You are a young, handsome boy who led a small political war, who spent time in Snyder's Refuge-" Jack stiffened and Zoe made a mental note to approach that ground cautiously. "-and you have an interesting history. People are becoming interested in the – don't mind my phrasing it this way – lower class."

"I still don't see why anyone would want to read about me." Zoe sighed. She had no idea how to convince someone that they are worth reading about. At least, not without basically sucking up to the person.

"I don't know how to say this. Just trust me, it is something new and intriguing and lots of people will be interested." Jack's eyes were undisguised, showing his reservation about the whole idea. "I know this is very weird for you, people being interested in your life and such. But The World is, as always, running low on headlines and stories. I do believe that you depend upon those papers as much as we do."

"There ain't nothin' to write about. I'm a man of little means," he said, lightly but also seriously. "And I don't like questionnaires."

"Okay. Maybe I could come along with you during a normal newspaper run. Just observe you doing what you normally do. I can't guarantee no questions, but they will be about the job."

She could see that Jack was considering this. He ran a hand through his hair, and chewed the inside of his cheek. "Okay, fine. But this is only to get you off my back."

"That's fine with me," she said. She finally won. But she had to admit, she hadn't thought she would. Zoe would figure out how to get the personal information later. _'Baby steps,'_ she reminded herself. She definitely didn't want to backtrack.

-xxxxx-

Jack fought back a laugh as the two offenders walked up to him timidly. "How was it?"

"I do believe that I can honestly say it was the most awful two hours of noise I have ever experienced," Jack informed them, wrinkling his nose at the mere thought of that afternoon's entertainment. "My ears started to bleed."

"No, Jack, we mean with the pretty lady who's been pursuing ya," Race said with a wink. Jack rolled his eyes, but relented.

"Oh, the one who paid you to leave me at an opera with her? Well, I managed to not get angry at her," Jack offered, jovial. Race looked over at Mush, his expression hopeful. Jack didn't seem angry, so they didn't really need the details.

"Well, we're glad to hear that things went okay for ya," Race said, and Mush nodded energetically before the two hurried off, leaving a chuckling Jack behind.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Yay! Early update. And it's longer than usual, too. I'm proud of myself right now :)**

**Thank you everyone who has read this, and an even bigger thank you to everyone who has followed/favorite, and the biggest thank you to everyone who has reviewed! I love reviews, but who doesn't? **

~Chapter Seven~

The sun rose far too quickly the next day, and Jack found himself staring at a face all too sweet to match Zoe's true nature. Her eyes challenged him, and her mouth was quirked into a smile that would appear friendly. Jack recognized it to be more condescending. He groaned to himself, thinking of the day ahead of him. Long gone was the rare good mood that he had been in when he agreed to this torture. His resentment for the copper haired princess was back in action. And he'd even woken up with a headache that morning. That was a bonus.

"Good morning, Mr. Kelly," she greeted, still looking annoyingly… smug. That was the only word that Jack could conjure up, with his somewhat limited vocabulary. He sure missed out on a lot of what Miss Pulitzer said, that was certain. She was always speaking so professionally. It was probably to assert her formal education.

"What's good about it?" he mumbled, inwardly admitting to himself that he probably hadn't gotten enough sleep the previous night. She eyed him, but didn't respond. Zoe only followed him to the counter. He noticed that she sort of hid behind him, and he looked at her quizzically. She jerked her head towards Oscar, and he understood.

Sadly, a young lady in full skirts could never hide among a crowd of newsies, no matter how hard she tried. Oscar's eyes found her immediately, and Jack rolled his eyes and the flirty expression that the older Delancey donned. Jack himself had always preferred more subtle glances and expressions, or direct looks. Not whatever desperate act Oscar was putting up.

Ahead of him in line, Race noticed Oscar's interest in Zoe, and his expression of it. "Yeah, Oscar, you're lookin' just as sexy as ever, but I still need my papes." The blush that settled on his cheeks was light, but noticeable. Race chuckled, and hauled his papers over towards the steps where Mush was stationed.

When Jack reached the front of the line, he slapped a dime onto the counter. "The usual."

"And what is the usual, Mr. Kelly?" Zoe's voice sounded behind him, and he sighed.

"A hundred papes," Weasel answered for him, slapping a thick stack onto the counter. Zoe nodded, still avoiding Oscar's cocky face as he stared at her. Jack ignored him, to avoid a cutting remark that didn't need to be made. If a normal Jack Kelly was sharp, a moody Jack Kelly was even worse.

"Where do you usually sell?" The girl whipped out a notebook and pencil, reminding Jack of Denton. "And why do you sell there?"

"I sell in Downtown 'Hattan unless there's too many newsies over there. I sell there 'cause it's a short walk to the multitudes," Jack explained, his voice low and monotone. He turned to her, waiting for an objection. He received none, only a sweet reminder that he would be quoted, and to represent himself well. He snorted. "I don't really do much representin' for myself. Don' quote me on that."

Hiding her amusement, Zoe followed Jack to the crowded marketplace. He began to holler short advertisements, ones that Zoe didn't recognize from today's paper. She had already read it, and couldn't figure out what Jack was talking about. A huge natural disaster destroying New York homes?

"Mr. Kelly I don't believe that is in this paper," she said, not sure if he was lying or if she had missed something. He smirked, handing a paper over to a man in exchange for some change.

"That man overpaid me. It happens a lot, somebody jus' grabs some coins and takes a pape," Jack said, actually seeming amused by that fact. Zoe cleared her throat, reminding Jack of her last question. "It's on page six, article seven."

Zoe snatched the paper, searching for the article. She read aloud, "Group of bird nests found destroyed by rainstorm." He expected her voice to drip with disapproval, as David's had in this exact same situation, but she smirked at him. "Clever, Kelly."

"How else am I supposed to make a living off these shitty headlines?" Jack chuckled, his mood lightening, and Zoe frowned.

"Language," she reminded him, but her eyes didn't echo her severity. "I am a –"

"Yeah, yeah, I know you're a lady," Jack replied, "You sound like someone I know. Oh, an' don' quote me on that either."

xxxxx

For an hour, Zoe stood near Jack and merely watched him sell. He had sold twelve in an hour.

"Mr. Kelly, how many papers do you usually sell on average per hour?" Jack looked at her for a moment, rolling his tongue in his mouth thoughtfully.

"There ain't an average, it comes an' it goes," he said finally, and Zoe wrote that down. "Let's move from here." Zoe followed obediently, not really interested in where Jack sold his papers.

They walked through a rather desolate street, but it led straight into another marketplace. Jack seemed to target the flea market areas.

"Why do you always sell near marketplaces?" she asked, trying to walk and sharpen her pencil simultaneously.

Jack stopped short and turned around to face her. "Look, do ya gotta ask so many stupid questions? I'm workin' here." Zoe crossed her arms, her expression hardening.

"Mr. Kelly, may I remind you –" she began, her voice strict, when she was interrupted.

"Would ya stop that 'Mr. Kelly' stuff? I'm Jack," he corrected. His voice was harsh, but Zoe ignored his comment, returning to her statement that he had cut off.

"May I remind you that the reason I am here, is to ask you questions?" her voice grew progressively louder as she spoke, and she found herself fighting an outburst of anger.

"May I remind you that at the opera, you said _observe_, not harass!" Jack snapped, his eyes dull but his voice angry. Zoe's eyes, however, flashed to match her voice.

"I don't believe that what I am doing qualifies as harassment, especially when I received previous permission! I am trying to write the very stuff that you live off of," she spat, "When you can sit down and write article after article that people will be willing to pay for and read, with people breathing down your neck for more, then we'll talk about harassment." Jack scoffed, kicking and the ground with a scuffed boot.

"Ya make your little dream life livin' in a mansion with all the food and clothing ya ever want or need sound pretty terrible," he said coldly. His eyes, however, were still empty. Like he wasn't actually upset. "Believe me, there are folks who would be grateful for that." Zoe stepped back.

"I don't know how we ended up here, but I want to move on," she spoke diplomatically, with her voice smooth and simple. "I will try not to bother you. You can stop being a grumpy pig."

"Look, my head has been throbbin' all day, and I'm gettin' a sore throat, but unlike you, I can't stay home in bed with blankets and pillows till I feel better," Jack's voice was tired now, and Zoe realized that he didn't seem exactly well. "An' I barely slept last night. So I'm not havin' the best time right now, so bear with me."

Zoe sighed, understanding Jack's mood a little better, and closed her mouth. She only hoped she could keep it shut.

The day dragged on, but the two had reached a mutual agreement to try to get along. It seemed small, but without the deal in operation they fought endlessly.

Jack had sold all but ten of his papers by early afternoon, saying that you have to sell them early or you don't get much for buyers.

Zoe happily followed Jack wherever he wanted to sell, until she noticed that he kept moving south. And Brooklyn was getting closer.

If there was one thing that Zoe did not do, it was venture to Brooklyn past noon.

"Where are we going?" Jack shrugged, continuing in his southward path. "I am not getting any closer to Brooklyn this late in the day."

"It's only two o'clock," Jack pointed out, and Zoe arched a thin eyebrow. "And we ain't goin' into Brooklyn."

"I don't want to get any closer," she said, keeping her voice even. Jack huffed, walking in a small circle before coming to a stop. He stared blankly at her for a minute, and finally spoke.

"I always finish my paper runs here," he said, eyes meeting hers, but this time with a spark of annoyance. "An' I like this area."

Zoe bit her tongue, not sure if she should rise to the challenge and fight her way through this, or give it up. She chose the former. "Mr. Kelly, I am not going to be subjected to this. I don't believe I am asking you to sacrifice anything!"

"There you go again with 'Mr. Kelly'," Jack groaned, "I hate that." Zoe defiantly placed her dainty hands on her small waist, her green eyes squinted.

"I am trying to maintain a level of professionalism, something that you are making terribly difficult through your insults, obstinacy, and arguing," she said icily. Jack glared, his jaw clenching.

"Ya know, I don't have to be doin' this," Jack muttered, his headache cutting sharply and taking away his will to fight. Any other day, he would have kept on until he had won.

"Neither do I," Zoe replied, still hard and unforgiving. Jack didn't respond. He just turned around, and walked back in the direction of the Lodging House. Zoe eyed him, waiting for him to whip around and lash out, but he never even looked back to see if she was following.

On the way back, Zoe welcomed the silence, but also hated it. Jack seemed to be indifferent, not even glancing at her the majority of the walk. Only when they reached the square where they needed to part ways did Jack speak again.

"Are you fine from here?" he asked, obviously forcing himself to be civil. Once he spoke, she could hear the tiredness, but also irritation.

"Yes, thank you," she answered, feeling somewhat sincere. "I guess I will see you around." With a half- hearted shrug, Jack turned and walked away down the street.

xxxxx

Jack collapsed on his bed once he reached the Lodging House, his headache enveloping his entire head. An ache had settled in his back, along with scratchiness in his throat. He was certain that by morning he would barely be able to swallow.

Mush was, of course, concerned. But he was the only one who really cared. Race found it amusing, and the others either didn't care or made jokes.

"So Jack," Mush began, "How was your day with Miss Pulitzer?" Jack rubbed his face, a gesture that usually portrayed his frustration.

"It was horrible," he answered, "I felt sick the whole time, and it was just question after question, and complaint after complaint. She wouldn't let me sell in my normal spots."

"Sorry Jack," Mush said, genuinely sympathetic.

"I wanted to tell her to add a disclaimer that says, 'don' believe this shit, he only did what I told him to do, so it ain't accurate'." Mush laughed a little too long, and Jack shushed him. "Too loud, Mush."

After a series of laugh-ridden apologies, Mush disappeared through the doorway to join the other boys downstairs for the typical three hour game of poker.

After hours of tossing and turning, hearing obnoxious shouts and laughter from downstairs, Jack finally tuned out the ruckus and fell asleep.

xxxxx

Jack awoke to birds chirping. The sun was streaming through the windows, unlike yesterday's dark clouds that had curtained New York City. From the droplets still clinging to the windowpane, Jack could tell that the clouds had emptied themselves in a late night rain.

The surrounding beauty was unappreciated, sadly, for Jack had awakened to a fever far worse than the previous day. A groan slipped past his lips, as he realized how late it was. The sun had risen, and the other beds in the bunkroom were vacant. In fact, the Lodging House was dead silent.

He threw his legs over the bed, intent on starting his day, but a splitting pain surged through his head, focusing right around his eyes. He fell back onto the covers, suddenly growing aware of every little ailment that was keeping him in bed.

He had a sore throat, a sinus headache, a sore body, and it felt like there was a weight pressing into his brain, making him lightheaded and tired. The symptoms pointed to a fever, but Jack refused to believe it.

_ Just a few more minutes_, he thought.

When he awoke again, it was because soft humming above him. He opened his eyes slowly, finding himself looking at none other than Zoe Pulitzer. He stared at her unbelievingly, watching her disappear out of the door and reappear with a basket.

"Well look who woke up," she muttered. Her apparent irritation was false, however, because immediately after she offered him a small smile. Jack only continued to watch her, totally confused.

She reached into the basket and withdrew a thick blanket, tightly crocheted with 'expensive' practically written all over it. She yanked off Jack's unwashed sheets, showing her disgust with a clear expression. "You boys are disgusting. You probably haven't washed that blanket in three months."

Jack lazily held up a four to correct her, surrendering himself to the fact that Zoe was, in fact, in the bunkroom. She shook her head, but was obviously pleased to get a response. To replace the missing one, she draped her own blanket over Jack's limp form. She proceeded to disappear and reappear again, this time bearing a cloth and a bowl of water.

She slapped the wet cloth onto Jack's forehead, doing the job but not taking her time with it. "There. You have a fever, so leave it there to cool you off."

Jack repositioned it, and wiped the dribbling water off his face. "What are you doing?" he croaked, closing his eyes as the sunlight became too much. Zoe raised her eyebrows.

"Helping you?"

"But why?" he asked, keeping his words to a minimum. Every syllable hurt more than the last.

"Well, neither of us was at our best yesterday," Zoe said lightly, busying herself stripping the sheets off of every bed. Once she started, she couldn't stop, and had to clean the entire room. "And I could tell that you were getting sick. Every minute you were stopping to massage your head. I figured I would stop by, make a peace offering, I guess."

Jack contemplated this, and nodded. Of course, the movement sent another knife of pain through his head. In a few minutes, he was dozing off again, not even sure if Zoe was still there. But, deep down, he appreciated that she came, though he had no idea why she had.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: I don't have much to say, other thank you to all my reviewers, followers, and favoriters. **

**I'm excited! Jack is starting to realize that Zoe isn't just a pest like he thought… **

~Chapter Seven~

Zoe left as soon as Jack fell asleep. In his room, she couldn't help feeling like an intruder, so she left once she felt she had done her civil duty. She did feel as though everything had been resolved in that little visit. Like there was an unspoken truce between them.

Her day went normally, with a few hours set aside for her schoolwork. Her tutor was an impatient scholar, whose mind was light-years beyond that of an average tutor. The only reason that the brilliant man was tutoring was that Pulitzer offered money and the scientific conventions offered controversy.

He had explained the entire ordeal in great depth to the disinterested Miss Pulitzer, and her lack of adamancy as a young pupil definitely irritated him.

"Miss Pulitzer, it is extremely unattractive in a young lady for such a lack of enthusiasm to surface in the schoolroom. I would suggest…" The rest of his lecture faded away with the rest of reality.

Her mind wandered, and while she tried to keep her thoughts away from a certain newsie, the dangerously uncharted territory was enticing. He really was handsome. It seemed like the poor boys with no chance at the finer life were always the dashing, mysterious ones that captured your attention. Why couldn't the rich suitors be the same? Her thoughts merited a rather loud sigh, and Zoe noticed that the distant drone of her tutor's voice had stopped.

She glanced up meekly, and he made an obvious show of his annoyance.

"And who were you dreaming about this time? The poor fiddler's son or the baker's assistant?" Zoe almost chuckled at the way her teacher knew her tastes.

"No, he's a newsboy," she allowed, seeing no harm in telling the snobby man about Jack. "He is far more handsome than the baker's assistant, but I think the fiddler's son would have given him some competition." Rolling his eyes, the tutor dropped the textbooks onto a table.

"Your father must have quite the time with you."

"I suppose so," Zoe agreed with a careless shrug. Then she turned to her untouched math book, and began scribbling on the page with enough diligence to send the tutor to a less imposing location.

The next day, Zoe went through the normal motions of heading to the Distribution Center, and waited for only a few minutes before Jack's particularly close friends rounded the bend. She approached the muscled one, since he seemed to be the friendliest. He had tried to offer assistance the first time she met him, and she had brushed him off. Now she slightly regretted that. Slightly.

"Mush, right?" She greeted, and fought a smile when his face lit up at the recognition. "I was wondering about Jack. How is he feeling?"

"Like shi- uh, terrible," he corrected himself, "But I think your visit helped." The wink that followed was only a little disconcerting.

"Has he… mentioned it?" Mush looked confused, and Zoe made the difficult decision to stop beating around the bush. "Has he talked about me much around you?"

Mush grinned, and seemed to think for a minute. "That depends… do ya mean good things or bad things?" That in and of itself was enough discouragement to tempt Zoe to drop the subject.

"Uh… I think most people prefer good things to be said about them," she said carefully, and Mush offered her an apologetic look.

"Well, he hasn' said much of that," he admitted, "He did call ya pretty, though. He was sayin' that you are as unshakable as a tick, and the only justifyin' quality is your pretty face." While the insult was stinging, it helped Zoe to know that Jack considered her pretty. Mush continued, "He really does think ya are pretty. He was tryin' to describe ya to the fellas that haven' seen ya. He said somethin' like, ya have copper hair an' it's really silky, and ya got full lips, and he says ya probably use them to seduce your victims into givin' all their secrets out to be published, and he said ya have the prettiest eyes he's ever seen, and that he doesn't trust someone who looks so angelic."

"That was certainly the most backhanded compliment I have ever received."

"An' he says that you are the strangest combination of a mule and a girl that he's ever seen," Mush continued, eyes alight with the pleasure of such recollections. Zoe bit her lip, wanting him to continue. This was interesting, if not hurtful. "And he says that you need to realize how pretty you are and quit wearin' that rich girl stuff on your face."

"Blush?" Mush shrugged, not sure what names went along with the items.

"It's the stuff Medda wears," he said uncertainly, but didn't stay on that subject for long. "He also says –"

"He says quite a lot," Zoe interrupted, "Thank you. While that was extremely insensitive, it was also very enlightening." Mush blushed, realizing that his comments weren't exactly filtered or kind.

"Of course, I don't think those things," he quickly said, "No, that's all Jack."

"I'm quite sure that it is," Zoe agreed, dark emerald eyes flashing. "I doubt that very many other people would speak that way about a lady behind her back." Mush nodded his agreement, willing to throw the blame to Jack if it meant he was unscathed.

Zoe returned to her home with plenty to think about.

X

"Miss Pulitzer asked about ya," Mush told Jack, wiggling his eyebrows. "She wanted to know if ya talk about her."

"An' ya told her what?" Jack rasped, sitting up and reaching for the day old glass of water by his bed. Mush thought for a moment, replaying the morning's events before relaying them to the waiting invalid. Jack hoped that Mush hadn't said anything, because he was starting to realize that he didn't mind the feisty Pulitzer, and wanted to make amends. He might even like her a little. A little.

"Absolutely nothin'," he said, "Unless ya count a 'he doesn't say a word about ya'. Then I told her somethin'." Jack eyed his friend, but accepted the answer.

"As long as ya didn't go spoutin' about everythin' I've ever said about her," he coughed, reclining farther into the sheets. If he had been facing Mush, he would have seen an incriminating look of relief and laughter.

X

Zoe continued to walk to the Distribution Center daily, waiting for a recovered Jack to show. It had been three days since her encounter with Mush, and she figured that it wouldn't be long before the newsie was back to work.

This particular morning, Oscar was presenting a challenge. His continual flirtatious smiles finally increased to actual passes, which were both unappreciated and deflected. While normally she would have moved to a different location to wait, the pouring rain outside of the small canopy by the selling window was far from enticing.

"Hey, I think that you've been a little bit unnecessarily cold," Oscar said in a pitiful tone, "All I did was tell you that I think you're gorgeous." What a suck up.

"Well, please admire silently and from a distance," Zoe returned, facing away from the man to avoid further annoyance.

"There you go, being cold again," he complained, when he noticed her shivering body. "Hey, you really are cold. You know that exercise warms the body? I know some particularly pleasing exercises."

"Really," she flatly replied, showing her disinterest without actual comebacks. Oscar, however, saw her uncharacteristic lack of aggression as encouragement, as all desperate souls are prone to do.

"Oh, sister, believe me, I do," he grinned, "You can ask quite a few witnesses who have experienced firsthand." Zoe turned.

"You mean to seduce me by telling me that you have had tons of other sex partners who haven't stuck around? And by witnesses, do you mean voyeurs?" Her patience was snapped at this point, although she had put up a valiant effort to control it.

Oscar sputtered for a second, "No, I am just telling you that I'm far from inexperienced. You would have a good time. And I don't –"

"I'm gonna have to call your bluff on that one, Oscar," a familiar voice interjected, and Zoe sighed with relief when she saw Jack approaching. His voice was slightly nasally from his fever or cold or whatever he had, but he seemed recovered. The Delancey's nostrils flared, his territorial male side coming out of hibernation. "Can' ya take a hint?"

"Oh, he can't," Zoe told him, "He's been telling me all about his experience." Jack clenched his jaw, and Zoe detected a hint of anger. Was it anger for her? Surely not.

"I have plenty!" Oscar defended, but he only seemed to feed the embers in Jack's eyes.

"So ya invite a lady to be another addition to your many notches on the bedpost?" Jack spat, "Ya couldn't speak to a lady without insulting her, could ya?"

"Why do you give a damn, Kelly?" Oscar was wallowing in fury, with a side of embarrassment. Jack paused for a moment, looking straight into Zoe's wide open eyes (she recalled then that they were the very eyes that he called the most beautiful he'd ever seen, and felt a spark of pride).

"Because I wouldn' leave any lady subjected to your mistreatment," he said, "besides, she's wit' me, and she doesn' need asshole treatment." Zoe was still shocked that Jack had intervened. The first time Oscar flirted, he really hadn't given a damn.

In a minute, Jack had bought his papers from a fuming Oscar, and was turning to leave.

"Are ya comin'?" he called, and Zoe hurried to follow him. When she reached him, he grabbed her arm more gently than she expected and lead her into the crowds and away from Oscar. Zoe was confused, if anything. And judging the expression on Jack's face, he was feeling similarly.

X

_'What the hell was that, Kelly?'_ Jack kept asking himself, especially when he looked back at the very thoughtful looking Miss Pulitzer. He couldn't accept that it might have been some kind of protectiveness. It was chivalry, he decided.

"Jack, why were you so upset at the Distribution Center?" Zoe broke the silence.

'_Oh shit, she called you by your first name, not good.'_ Jack thought for a moment.

"Oscar's always treatin' girls like toys," he said finally. "It gets on my nerves. Especially when I know the lady." Zoe nodded, speeding up to walk beside him.

"I thought you would enjoy leaving me to Oscar's perverted hands," she said, and Jack looked back at her. Was she going somewhere with this? "Since you apparently despise my existence."

'_Oh, God, please help me.' _

"I don'," was all he could say, and it earned him a snort of disbelief.

"From what I've personally experienced, and from what Mush told me, I don't think that argument is really sustaining anything." Jack stopped short.

_'From what Mush told her? Oh, God, please help Mush.' _

"What exactly did Mush tell ya?" Zoe looked up and seemed to realize her mistake.

"Nothing…" a tiny smile played at her lips, leaving Jack equally curious and irate. Apparently she wasn't furious with him. That was good.

Jack didn't push her. Mush, however, would be hearing from Jack in the very near future.


End file.
